Casino Loyale
by Squeemister
Summary: When a couple of workers of a new Casino in Las Vegas die in horrific ways, Sam and Dean must investigate to protect the next worker from becoming a new victim.
1. Chapter 1

"…and then it took over her body. Her eyes were blank but they pierced through you with such a stare that it sent a nasty shiver down your spine…"

A blonde security guard sat with his feet propped up on the back of a chair, watching the _Discovery Channel's America's Most Haunted_. He popped a few pieces of black salmiakki in his mouth, eyes transfixed on the screen.

"How can you eat those?"

The blond security guard let his head fall so he was staring at another security guard upside down. He popped in another and the other cringed.

"Dude, my mom sent 'em. Whatever my mom sends…I eat. Besides its just like licquorice."

"I learned they weren't the second you smiled as I popped one in my mouth…" the second security guard shuddered and walked so he was standing next to him. Jake smiled and returned his attention to the televison.

"Jake, what the hell are you watching?"

Jake pointed, "Aww, is the big Rafael Marcial afraid?" Rafael gave him a look and sighed shaking his head turning back to the screen. Jake turned the sound up a bit more.

There now was a woman screaming like she was possessed, causing the glasses on the walls to break. Jake laughed.

Rafael rolled his eyes, "Alright, listen. Mike and I are going to go out and get some late dinner from the hall. You want anything?"

Jake thought for a second and then shook his head, "Eh, maybe some roastbeef or something."

Rafael patted him on the back, "Got it." He turned back for a second and went around the corner to the door, "Ah man, c'mon."

Jake sat up, "What's up?"

Rafael crossed to the door and locked the latch, "You keep forgetting to lock the door. How many times am I going to remind you?" He went back in and stopped in the door way. "I keep doing this man, one of these days you're actually gonna get it from the boss."

Jake puffed his chest and opened his arms like "What." "C'mon dude, who'd fire me?"

"Ha! Yeah, who'd hire you? All you do is sit there and eat and watch tv."

Jake grinned, "Yeup, and I do it so damn well."

Rafael chuckled, "Yeah yeah, just remember its for your saftey too. Looneys are out there at this time of night."

Jake muttered something like "Yes mom," and reverted his attention to the tv. Rafael left and walked down the hall passing the storage area where they kept the new deck of cards under lock and key. A whisper ran past him and he stopped dead in his tracks. He looked around him and when satisfied it was nothing he continued and met up with Mike who acompainied him to the buffet layed out before them in the mess hall.

Jake was telling the screen exactly what he thought about each of the actors and actresses, when a loud crash sounded behind him by the bar. Jake stood up, flash light up and hand on his pistol. He walked over to the bar and dropped his flash light at his side. A glass had fallen off the wall and crashed, sending little diamond like sharp shapes across the floor.  
"Damn…" He picked up his radio. "Hey, this is Security on floor 6, bar room 6, we've had an accident, need Tim up here." An answer came back "Sure thing Jake,..clutz.." Jake rolled his yes, "Ok…first…wasn't me…second…I'm not a clutz."

Jake whirled around as a barstool slid off one of the tables. "Oh for the love of…Not again….NOT AGAIN…HOLY!" He dived down as another glass shot off the wall at him. He hid himself behind the front of the barcountertop. He picked up his radio, "Hey, I need some help…It's happening again! Rafael!! It—" The radio came back with static. Suddenly everthing stopped.

"SECURITY!!!!" A woman's shriek was panicked and it came from around the corner. He got up and ran to help.

"Alright Jake, what'd you knock ov—oh my God." Tim the Janitor backed up as his boots connected with something wet and sticky red soaking into the carpet. But that wasn't his reason for surprise. Jake laid out on the ground like a cross formation. Blood ran from his neck and wrists, seeping out into the carpet.


	2. Chapter 2

"Ya know, this is another reason I don't let you drive, Sam."

Sam and Dean sat in a booth of a diner, glaring at each other.

"You said," a blonde waitress interrupted Sam as she placed a plate of eggs, bacon and pancakes in front of him. She placed a plate of waffles, home fries, toast and eggs in front of Dean. He smiled at her and she smiled politely. She turned and walked away.

Sam leaned in as Dean started to eat, "You said you wanted to come to Las Vegas."

"Yeah but I was fooling around. I don't want a vacation Sam. I want to work. Is that so hard?" He stabbed his waffle a bit to hard and the fork made a clang on the plate.

Sam sighed, "Why can't we just, ya know hang out for a bit?"

Dean popped a home fry in his mouth and just stared at Sam.

Sam cut his pancake and ate, staring at Dean.

Dean stopped chewing, his eyes drifted past Sam's head. Sam slowly turned and focused his attention to where Dean was staring.

A woman's voice floated over the area of the diner from a TV in the upper corner. "In local news, the newly opened Casino Loyale has experienced its fourth tragedy this morning. Brian has more." It panned to a video feed of a man, Brian, standing in front of a lavish Casino with the word "LOYALE" in blinking lights that would've been more noticeable in the dark hours of night. The man shifted his weight on his feet like he had been standing there for quite some time. He brought up his microphone.

"Yes Sherry, here at the Loyale they've experienced three past deaths and it has been announced that a fourth victim has been claimed. The authorities _**still**_ do not have a solid idea of who has been causing these horrific tragedies." The picture split into four squares; One showing the reporter and the other three were the pictures of the first three victims. The reporter continued, "The victims; Workers, Liza Magellan, Alex Truman, and Tracy Stone, were all found the same way: Lacerated throats and wrists. Found laying on their backs on the floor of the Casino. Now it seems this fourth victim, (A picture of the victim took up the entire TV), Jake Green a security guard, has also died in the same matter. Authorities have released the information that these four deaths have happened in the same time frames: Between 3am and 7am in the morning. The culprit behind these murders…remains…a mystery." It panned back to the reporter who sighed and shook her head sadly before changing her outlook and discussing the new figures of how tourism could be affected. Dean rolled his eyes at all the dramatic pauses and met Sam's eyes.

Sam raised his eyebrows, "A job?"

Dean shrugged but looked pleased, "Lets finish our plates and then head out."

Sam looked at his plate.

"Dude…you are going to eat. You're so… gangly." Dean almost about thwacked him over the head when Sam didn't eat. "I said eat. Do not make me feed you. It'll just add to the insanity of when we got that room." Dean cringed and shook himself.

Sam smiled and then took a bite of his pancake, "Yeah, that dude was a bit too interested."

Dean and Sam both shared a laugh before wolfing down their meals. After they finished the blonde woman came back with their check. Dean signed it 'D. Hasselhof' and winked at the waitress. She smiled politely again and turned to Sam to take his plate. She dropped a napkin in his lap by accident and walked away. Sam picked it up and stared at it. His eyebrows slightly raised and he looked at Dean. Dean snatched the napkin and saw a number. "Her phone number…_**you**_ got her phone number?" Sam just shrugged and snatched it back. He could hear Dean mutter "Its not like you're gonna call her…" before they walked out into the humid dry air of Nevada. 


	3. Chapter 3

"I cannot believe we're dressed up like this." Sam looked down at his suede overalls with the name "Stan's Steam" on the back and with a name badge of "Larry" written on the top front right pocket.

Dean shrugged, "What Sam? Never wanted to be a carpet cleaner when you were a kid?"

Sam looked at Dean's badge that said "Fred" and rolled his eyes, "Lets just get this over with."

They walked up the steps to the Loyale Casino's front doors. A security officer stood there, apparently waiting for them, and motioned them through the doors after seeing the vacuums and steamers.

Dean turned to Sam, "Hey, who could've thought we'd get into a crime scene area with vacuums?" He laughed.

Sam just shook his head as they made their way down the hallway, following the security officer. "Dean, its not really a crime scene anymore, they're done. We got here to late to see everything."

"Downer."

Sam looked at Dean and gave him a prissy look, "Shut up."

Dean raised an eyebrow, "That one piece riding up a bit too much there, pal?"

Sam picked up the pace, "No, I just wanted this to be…"  
Dean finished his sentence, "A Vacation?" They had closed the space between themselves and the security officer, "I've told you too many times, Larry, I don't need a vacation; I need to work…" The security officer turned around. Dean smiled, "Yeah, Larry over here worries a lot," he pointed to himself, "calls me a workaholic." He laughed.

Sam nodded and smiled, "Yeah, Fred has issues with his wife Wilma. They act like it's the Stone Age."

Dean gave a polite smile to the officer and whispered, "Hey, Larry, shut up before I whack you over the head with my vacuum."

They continued following the officer down the hallways to the back portioned of the Casino.

Sam turned to the officer, "Thanks, we can take it from here." The officer nodded and walked out. Dean bent down and unlocked the top of the vacuum where the bag was supposed to be. Instead of a bag however, their EVP meter and other assorted gear was in there.

Sam had opened the steamer to reveal their shotgun that was wedged in the thick hose, "How the hell did you get this in here."

Dean just smiled, "We don't need that yet, keep it in there."

Sam muttered a 'And how was I going to get it out' before joining Dean in looking around for any signs that this was their type of job.


	4. Chapter 4

"Dude…I'm getting EVP like crazy." Dean looked down at his frantic meter; the lights blinking almost off the charts. He then looked back at Sam who was standing still and breathing slow and deep.

"Yeah, I know what you mean…it feels…" Sam breathed in deeply.

Dean looked at him, puzzled, "What?"

Sam breathed out like something was preventing him from doing so, "Cold? Or…thick…" He turned to Dean, "I'm not sure how to explain it."

Dean raised his eyebrows, "Well…if you…" He stopped, eyes searching for the words.  
Sam looked at him questioning, "What? If I what?"

Dean shrugged, "If you _feel_ something or…_think_ something….just let me know." He shook his head and resumed looking at the bloodstained carpet.

"Yeah. 'Course I will." Sam tilted his head in confusion and scratched his head, feeling uneasy.

Dean spread his legs and straddled the blood stained area. Boots on each side of the darkened carpet, Dean raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth, "Sam." Sam walked over next to him. "You see this?" Dean got out of the way and allowed for Sam to take the same position. Sam narrowed his eyes and it took him a second but then he raised his eyebrows as his eyes widened.

"Dean…wasn't the guy killed by his—"Throat and wrists slit?" Dean met Sam's eyes. Sam looked back down, "There's not enough blood."

Dean shook his head, "Yeah, for once, not enough. Not nearly enough. This guy didn't die by his wounds." Dean quickly hid his EVP Meter as a security guard came down towards them. Dean smiled, "Howdy."

The security guard nodded, "Hi. You guys are the cleaners?"  
The boys exchanged looks and Sam nodded, "Yeup, That's us." Dean nodded and gave him a 100 watt grin.

The Guard gave them a nod and didn't look like he cared to much about the guys. Dean relaxed and walked towards him a bit, "Hey," Dean's eyes scanned his id badge, "Rafael," Rafael looked up at Dean. Dean made his voice quiet but buddy like, "Look man, what happened?"

Rafael took a deep breath, "Well, the poor kid. To go like that and he had so much on his mind. He had so much to resolve and…someone just…killed him." He tensed, "We'll find the person responsible. They can't get away with something like this."

"Well, I'm sure you will. But, you have…any idea…how?" Sam smiled politely.

Rafael grew solemn, "I don't know. They're saying the attacker…came in from that door." Both boys turned slightly and looked at the two shaded glass doors and then turned back. "But…" Rafael shook his head.

"But what?" Sam gave Dean a warning glare but Dean ignored him.

Rafael shrugged and then nervously rubbed his hands. Seriously and sure of himself he spoke, "I locked that door before I left him at his post and there are absolutely no evidence of forced entry," He pointed, "as you can see and the damn thing was open."

Sam tilted his head, "Open?" He looked at Dean, "Like he knew his attacker?" They both looked back at Rafael.

Astounded yet almost in disbelief, Rafael nodded, "Yeah. Like he let 'em in." He 'shook' it off and returned his gaze to the boys, "So, when will you be finished up?"

Sam smiled, "Eh, we'll see how this goes."

Rafael nodded, "Okie Dokie," He looked at both boys in unison, "Need anything?"

The boys both shook their heads and in unison said "No" and smiled.

Rafael raised an eyebrow and then waved slightly, "Alright." He turned to leave.

"Hey, Rafael?" Dean called back to him. Rafael turned, "You knew him well didn't you." Rafael nodded sadly and Dean smiled kindly back, "I'm sorry for your loss." Rafael gave a half smile and walked back down the hallway.

Sam crossed his arms and looked at Dean with an amused smile across his lips, "Getting soft?" He toyed with him.

Dean just glared.

Sam shrugged, "What? I'm happy you're being kind to the victims for once."

Dean walked, bumping him and passed by, "C'mon, get your butt in gear, we've got to make these people think we know how to clean a carpet."

Sam groaned, "The shotgun is still stuck in the hose."

Dean looked at him, "What the hell am I supposed to do about it?"

"You're the one who forced a shotgun in a vacuum hose. You get it out. I'll start cleaning." Sam took the other vacuum from Dean.

Dean scoffed and then rolled his eyes, "Yeah yeah, I'll get the damn shotgun out of the hose, then you'll get your ass in trouble and I'll have to save you with the damn shotgun…." He trailed off and Sam just choked on a laugh.


	5. Chapter 5

They finished cleaning the carpet while still looking for different signs. Sam walked to the doors that Rafael had mentioned. He reached out to unlock the door when something caught his eye. Blood.

"Dean. C'mere."

Dean trudged over to where Sam was and looked down at the shiny metal of the handle where a single drop of blood broke the metallic pattern.

"Huh. Well, either he had a nose bleed or he was wounded before?" Dean looked at Sam.

Sam shook his head, "No…I'm not even sure this is from the victim. I mean, why one drop?"

Dean shrugged, "I don't know? Are you saying that the…whatever, is leaving drops of blood behind?" Dean shook his head no, "C'mon, didn't we find out that a glass had broken or something and he called the janitor? Maybe he cut his finger?"  
Sam thought about it, "Yeah maybe. Something just doesn't feel right."

Dean looked concerned at Sam, "Yeah, I think we got all we need for right now…how bout we head off to the morgue?"

Sam spun around and gave Dean a look, "That's your idea for somewhere better? I'm sure I'll feel just great there."

Dean patted him on the shoulder; "I'll bring the bucket for you." Dean gave him a smile and picked up the shotgun and vacuum. He headed out the back door with Sam rolling his eyes and following suit.

Sam and Dean stood in front of the metallic coffin's door labeled "Jake Green". Dean opened it and then rolled the platform out. A body was underneath a white sheet. Dean gave one quick look at Sam and then pulled the sheet back. Underneath the sheet, was Jake Green; a young guy with blonde hair and a strong jaw line. He didn't look half bad for being dead. He had been cleaned up of course, so the slice across his neck didn't look all too bad. Dean moved the sheet down more and picked up Jake's hand. An identical slice appeared there and on the other wrist. Dean looked at his chart.

"Dude…" Sam looked up at Dean as Dean's voice startled the air with his discovery. Dean pulled up the sheet from the guy's feet and two identical marks were sliced across his ankles. "What the…"

"Ok. Not exactly a place to wound when you want to kill someone." Sam looked at Dean in the eyes.

Dean flipped the chart and handed it to Sam, "Nope. He was dead already."

Sam narrowed his eyebrows and read. When he finished he looked up at Dean, "Asphyxiation?"

Dean nodded, "Yeah, the guy was strangled to death and then was cut up."

Sam looked closer at Jake's neck, "But…there's barely any marks. But that would explain the low amount of blood found at the casino."

Dean took a deep breath, "Yeah, when you're dead not to much blood flows through you anymore."

Sam covered Jake back up. "We should take a look at the other victims."

"Yeah, one was cremated already but she was strangled and had the same cuts. Look at the files, all the same."

"But why is this entity doing this? I mean, why after someone's dead, mutilate?"

Dean shook his head at Sam, "I don't know. But we've got to stop it before it does it again. I mean there is no pattern I see yet. I mean the one girl was one of the dealers. The one guy was a bartender and the other girl was a dancer and now this guy, security guard. I mean there's no pattern of gender or race or age or anything."

Sam shook his head, "Well, I guess we need to talk to the families."

Dean smiled, "Yeup." He then slid Jake back into his temporary metallic coffin and locked him in.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean moved his arm in the air in a circle; trying to get comfortable in his suit and tie. Sam walked next to him; hand in pockets. Their shoes crunched on the hard gravel as they made their way up a path towards white steps that had seen better days. The paint chipped steps were connected to a tiny humble house. The siding also needed a new paint job but at least it stood. As the sound of their shoes hitting the last step; finding the porch with a thud, made the only sound in the area, Dean rapped his knuckles on the door. They waited for a moment until the inner door opened, revealing an elderly woman whose salty, soft, permed, hair fluttered silently as the wind made its way through the screen door. She leaned on a weathered cane and looked up at the giants in front of her through tinted lenses. Both boys smiled and she blinked a few times and then smiled back; warmly.

Dean smiled again, "Mrs. Green?" She smiled in response. "Hi. My name is Dean, this is Sam," he motioned towards Sam, "We're from the funeral home and wanted to go over some things with you, if you don't mind."

Her smile faded, but she opened the door; wobbling as she tried to hold her own against the heaviness of the screen door. Sam quickly helped out by taking over the door. She turned and walked back, slowly, inside the house. "Come…come in."

She made her way past a tiny living room that was outdated and moved into the kitchen that was open to the living room by means of a window/bar-like opening. Dean raised an eyebrow to the floral printed couch with clear, hard plastic covering every trace of it.

"Tea?" Her head was barely visible over the opening.

Sam smiled, "No, thank you m'am."

Her head disappeared and reappeared around the corner as the sound of a cart came around with her. It was a tiny little table-like cart and on top, a tray sat with silverware and teakettle. She moved, pushing the little cart into the room and then sat in a small recliner.  
"Sit, boys. Come on. Don't be shy now." She pointed with her cane at the couch.

As the boys sat, the couch squeaked in response to their large frames. She pushed to cups on the table in front of them, "Tea." She poured a sweet tea into each of their cups and then gave them each a peppermint. She smiled and sat back in her recliner. Dean and Sam gave each other a look and then smiled at Mrs. Green.

"Um…Mrs. Green, Sam and I wanted to know a bit more about your grandson." Dean smelled his tea and took a sip.  
Mrs. Green blinked behind her spectacles and then smiled. "Oh, my Jake, such a good boy. Bought me this cart, he did. Makes it so much easier. He fixed my TV too, right during the news it went out. He went right over there and fixed it. Such a good boy, my Jake."

Sam smiled sadly and softened his voice, "We're very sorry for your loss. Can you please tell us a little bit more about him? Maybe him and his job?"

The lady smiled, "Oh, Jake loved to work. He went everyday."

Dean sighed._** Oh boy, this one's got some loose marbles rolling around.**_ Dean smiled as the woman continued.

"My Jake, he always did so many things for me. He…" She stopped.

"He what, Mrs. Green?" Sam spoke softly.

She looked up at them both, "Would you like some tea?"

Dean gave Sam a side-glance, "No thanks Mrs. Green, we've got ours already."

She gave a surprised look. "Oh…oh that's right. I'm sorry dear."

The front door opened and in came an elderly man with a bag of groceries, "Mel, I got you some mor—" He stopped when she saw Sam and Dean. "Who are you?"

Dean was about to introduce them when Mrs. Green spoke, "Good boys. Good boys they are."

Dean smiled, "I'm Dean, this is Sam, we're from the funeral home."

The man walked over, "Oh. Right." He turned to Mrs. Green, "Mel, why don't you just wait here as I show Sam and Dean out." She nodded to the man and smiled when he kissed her forehead. He turned back to the boys and sternly said, "Follow me please."

The boys stood up and walked passed the elderly woman. Each said thank you and followed the man.

Once outside on the porch and the door closed, the man turned on them. "What the hell are you doing bothering my wife?"  
Dean tried to calm him down, "No. I think we got off to the wrong foot here."  
Sam stepped in, "Look, we meant no harm at all. We just came to get some information to make Jake's funeral more personal. If we did anything to offend you, I apologize."

The man calmed. "Alright, I get it. Its just…it's been a difficult year. Mel's Alzheimer's has gotten worse. One of these days…No, Look, all you need to know about Jake was that he was a young good boy and he did all he can for our family." His eyes glazed over sadness, "I was hard on the kid. He did a lot for the family. We're…. well a little low money wise and he took on that night shift at the casino. If only I hadn't pushed him to do it…he might be still…" He stopped. "You have a nice day." He turned and walked back up the steps where Mel was sitting on the porch, swinging lightly in the hanging seat. "C'mon Mel, lets go have some supper. C'mon…" She looked up at him and they both walked back inside.  
Sam and Dean got into the Impala in silence. Dean started up the engine and then glanced at Sam, "This bastard deserves to rot in hell."

Sam nodded, "Yeah."

The impala's tires crunched and spun gravel and dust as it glided down the road.


	7. Chapter 7

Dean switched on the radio and flipped through the channels. "…Loyale…sec…" Sam stopped Dean from switching the radio again.

Dean frowned at Sam, "What the hell? _**I'm **_the one driving here."

"Then drive." Sam switched the radio back to the previous station, "I heard something."

A man's voice filled the impala as Sam turned the volume dial up. "…Approximately 4am. This is the fifth victim the Loyale has experienced. Now onto other news.."

Dean narrowed his eyes and shut the radio off, "Wait…fifth? I thought Jake Green was the fourth?"  
Sam sighed, "He was."

Dean glanced at Sam, "Someone else?" Sam nodded. Dean continued, "4 AM…This morning…damn it. We were at the morgue only two hours later."

"They probably weren't done with the crime scene. Then, they needed a statement for the press." Sam rubbed his forehead and ran a hand through his hair.

Dean tapped the steering wheel lightly, "Alright. Dinner first or morgue?"

Sam looked over at Dean, "Either way I'm not going to enjoy my dinner."

"Dinner first then," Dean turned down towards the closest diner.

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"You guys are back again?" The young assistant sat behind the desk and leaned back in his chair. Dean gave him a cocky smile and showed him his id for the second day in row. The assistant eyeballed him, "Look, the cops told me not to allow anyone else in to look at the bodies. At all." He added the later as Dean opened his mouth. He picked up his newspaper and started to read.

Sam shrugged and pulled on Dean's shoulder, "C'mon Dean, apparently he wants to get fired."

The assistant's head snapped up at the word 'fired' and he stood, "Wait…wait…fired? I can't get fired. Go ahead…but…be quick about it; I could loose my job just having you in here."

He handed Dean and Sam a file and they passed the desk and went into the back.

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Sam and Dean looked down at the black male, late 30s. His neck, wrists and ankles were cut the same way as the previous ones and he also died by asphyxiation.

"Mike Davidson. Security guard. Had the 11-7 shift just like Jake." Dean dropped the clipboard on the table a little harder than he should have.

"Dean, calm down." Sam was a bit startled at Dean's reaction.

Dean looked at him fiercely, "He shouldn't be dead. We were right there. We missed it by…" Dean scratched through his short hair.

Sam covered Mike back up with the white sheet and rolled him back, latching the door shut. "We didn't know anything, we're not going to be able to save everyone. Right?" Dean looked back up, meeting his eyes. Sam waited but didn't get a response. "All we can do is prevent this from happening to another person."  
Dean took his white lab coat off, "You're right." He looked at Sam, "But don't expect me to start meditating." He walked towards the door.

Sam shut his eyes and laughed, "You are so weird. I can't believe you're my brother."   
Dean turned the doorknob, "I heard that, freak." He turned and grinned.


	8. Chapter 8

**So sorry that this took me forever. I quickly got this up. Enjoy. :D**

* * *

Dean sat in a comfortable blue chair in the living room that matched it. A large clock hung on the wall matching the mahogany woodwork throughout the house. It was a small house but a very comfortable as the boys continued their conversation with Mike Davidson's wife. As the conversation came to a close, Dean gave a disappointed look at Sam as they both rose. They didn't learn anything important. Mike Davidson's wife, Amie walked them to the door and smiled wearily at them.

"Thanks again Mrs. Davidson," and as Sam's compassionate "I'm so sorry for your loss" sounded through the air, Dean's eyes drifted to a loaded Van. It was packed with clothes and other valuables.

Dean turned back to Amie, "Uh," he pointed at the Van and before he could continue she smiled.

"Mike…didn't make a good choice a few months ago," She took a sharp intake of breath, "He cheated on me. But …" Her green eyes sparkled with a wet sadness; "We just started to get back on track…for the kids and for us. If only I accepted his apology sooner."

Dean's eyes narrowed, "What do you mean?"

Her eyes pierced him, "Well, he'd been happier and not felt awful before he…" She drifted off.

"Thank you for your time." Sam started back down the walk with Dean following.

They both got into the Impala and sat in silence as they drove down the road. After a bit Dean turned to Sam, "This job doesn't—"Make since? Yeah I've noticed." Sam met Dean's gaze as he finished his thoughts.

"We should find more about the building. It's our only lead. These people have nothing in common except that they work there." Dean gripped the steering wheel.

Sam scratched his head, "Yeah, I'll search local records."

* * *

Sam relaxed back on the bed in the motel and flipped through the limited channels on the TV. His boots laid in a tangle at the foot of the bed where he flopped them off. He didn't move when Dean walked in the room and shut the door. He could see Dean's face out of the corner of his eye and smiled.

Dean stood there with a bag of take out and a six-pack with a face of confusion and shock. Sam slowly rolled his head so he could look at him directly, "Hey. What'd ya bring me?"

Dean put the bag of food on the bed, keeping his eyes on Sam, "Either, you're possessed or you found information super fast," Sam gave a quick laugh. Dean raised an eyebrow, "What? Do I need to pull a gun on you?"

Sam laughed again and sat up, "Turns out the construction started only about a year ago and the land was bought and cleared so there was no long back-story to the place. Which means, easy research for a change."

Dean opened a beer; "Ok, smartass, why don't you go ahead and tell me what you found out and then you can go back to basking in your glory?"

Sam rolled his eyes, "Well, a couple; Mark Baker and his wife Sarah decided it would be a good investment so they started the process and even got to the construction of the building but one night, about 6 months ago, as they got ready to leave, someone attacked them. The husband was knocked unconscious and when he came to he saw his wife in her own blood, dead on the floor next to him. He called 911 after finding her and stopped working on the construction, giving it over to someone else."

"Let me guess, they didn't find the person who did it." Dean watched Sam shake his head.

"Nope, the Husband, Mark, told the cops he was knocked out from behind and never saw the attacker's face."  
Dean took a swig and smacked his lips, "Fantastic. I bet the wife is haunting the place. But her killing pattern makes no sense." After a while of only hearing the TV, Dean sighed, "I guess we've got to go talk to the husband."

Sam peeked in the takeout bag and suspiciously looked at a leaking Styrofoam container, "Yeah, he might know more than he thinks…" Sam sniffed the container and looked at Dean, "What the hell is this?"

Dean snatched the container, "Great, talking…I'd rather deal with a shifter." He opened the container and started to eat while Sam scrunched up his nose.


End file.
